Somewhere Diferent

I made this zine in 2019 as a resident of Celine Bureau, Montréal QC.

"I was young – I’ve now realized
I landed there in beige trousers, combing my hair to the right
– sipping coffee and staring out windows
as if waiting – almost knowingly,
for the cast who’d push me in the water
and keep me there a while.

I’d often walk about my new city, kicking leaves
touching brick
tracing the vines, up and over
– all with that variety of enthusiasm,
common of somebody who hasn’t yet felt the grip of life,
or managed any variety of hurt,
I’d say.

It was the ongoing stonewall facades – those repeating brownstones individuated by some random feature
– like a pink balcony next to a red one,
or some front yard junkyard structure.

Or perhaps it was the mere density of it all
– the having to live on top of shops, beside this person or underneath that person
that somehow reminded me of the places I haven’t yet been.

And I didn’t photograph much – the way I do
perhaps a bush or a tree – a wall or a door
– somebody else’s friends.

I often thought of home – of my walks along the Tsuu T’ina periphery,
where I’d pause before the expanse ahead,
tasting the brown field’s air – not yet coloured by the city’s release.

And I thought of the turquoise bridge, the feel of it’s rails
– guiding me to the cool dirt I lay upon now – in my mind’s eye,
as I watch Weaselhead birds
and play with Weaselhead sticks.

it was here, though – in my new city,
of brick and steel – of stairs and doors
where I’d hold my breath.

And in a language that would never come,
I’d learn of a difference – between solitude and loneliness,
between belonging and fitting in.

And seated on the now usual concrete step
– drinking another coffee, smoking another cigarette
I’d look up at that concrete mass in view, and wonder…

when will it all become familiar?"